DANGEROUS CHARITY
How to handle a stoned 11-year-old carrying an AK-47,
In the fall of 1998, in the isolated Kosovo hamlet of Maqiteve, an emaciated farmer shivered in the remains of his home. Months before NATO’s bombing war against Serbian strongman Slobodan Milosevic, his forces were carrying out a campaign of destruction in the tiny province, attacking villages suspected of harbouring ethnic Albanian separatists.
The farmer had told his wrenching story to a Star journalist and a Canadian aid official, Dave Toycen, president of the Canadian division of the international Christian charity World Vision. As a bitter wind whipped through the ruins, Toycen stripped off his padded jacket and wrapped it around the farmer’s shoulders.
It was just one more day in the life of a campaigner who spent his four-decade career in the world’s most catastrophic countries, on a mission to rescue children and their families from disaster, danger and destitution.
Toycen recently retired as head of Canada’s largest relief and development agency. And he admits, on his massive odyssey from Albania to Zaire (now Democratic Republic of Congo), “I just haven’t kept track of all the countries I’ve visited.”
You studied philosophy and divinity. What started you on this daunting path?
I needed a job. I was born in Wisconsin and went to school in Pasadena, Calif. My professor was a filmmaker and I was a production assistant. He took off on sabbatical and I was out of work. But World Vision had a vacancy for a radio spot (writer) and I was a bit of a social activist so it seemed right. Within a couple of weeks I knew this is what I wanted to do. I went on to work in Australia for World Vision, then moved to Canada and became a citizen.
Where was your first field trip?
It was a long one — from Guatemala to Brazil and Ghana. I walked into the Mathare Valley in Kenya (one of the world’s most squalid slums) and found a baby that had pneumonia and was going to die. I was about 25 at the time, but I knew I had to push hard to get medical help to save the baby’s life. At that point my wife was expecting, and the scene affected me powerfully. The trip taught me that even without speaking another language people can understand each other.
How has life changed for the world’s children since that trip in 1973?
There are some dramatic changes. At that time we were looking at 40,000 to 45,000 children dying every day. Forty years later, it’s down to 17,000 a day. That’s far too many, but it’s a large step forward. There are so many more children in school now, and the most dramatic thing is the inclusion of girls. There’s an improvement of facilities in many middle and developing countries: when I started out, schoolchildren would sit under a tree and they had no paper and pencils.
The philosophy of aid has changed too?
Enormously. Back when I started, children were there to be helped and provided for. Part of my journey has been seeing that you can’t disconnect them from families. You can’t help unless they have a chance for sustainability. Recently, we’ve learned that children are change agents in their communities, and they can be loud voices for change even when their parents resist.
Is it more difficult for aid groups to operate in war zones, especially Christianbased groups like yours, which doesn’t proselytize, but is facing violent Islamist militias?
In the beginning, (an aid worker) was a guest and a bit of a hero in communities. Now we can be seen as a legitimate target. But I don’t think we are discriminated against because we’re Christian. It’s that we aren’t part of who they are.
Anything perceived as western is the Other. But there is also an advantage to being faith-based because many parts of the world are religious and even if they aren’t Christian they feel that you understand them.
Have you ever felt seriously threatened?
The most dangerous time was in an African country with lots of checkpoints manned by children about 11 years old carrying AK-47s. Many were clearly on dope.
Those children have been abused and exploited, seen killings and killed people themselves. You have to work hard not to alienate them.
There were places in Asia where there was artillery fire near checkpoints, sometimes in Cambodia. I’ve been lucky that I’ve escaped without injury.
What was a high point of your travels?
One was in rural Tanzania, where I encountered a grandmother in her 70s who was supporting two granddaughters because their parents had died of AIDS. She had leprosy and only had a thumb and finger left on both hands. She lived in a mud hut and survived by begging. We stopped to talk to her and told her we would help get her girls into school. I asked if I could pray for her. But she put her hands up and said, “No, I’ll pray for you.” It was one of the most extraordinary moments of human dignity I’ve ever experienced.
And the low point?
There’s a certain point in wars and disasters when you first come in and see the loss of life, especially mindless destruction and children who are battered and bruised. I find that sheer inhumanity devastating. I feel the same thing every time. But then I ask, “What is this going to accomplish? It is terrible, but I’m here and what can I do to begin the response?” What always challenges me to continue is the Christian narrative that we all need help from outside ourselves.
With so many horrific wars exploding, can anything be done to stop the suffering?
It’s understandable that there is a call for military intervention, but the question is whether it really changes the game. It may temporarily change the situation, but it doesn’t change minds. We need to be more committed to finding what will work, understanding factors like religion and culture, past injustices and discrimination. People feel marginalized, and that’s why we have these problems. But they won’t be solved by guns alone. We need to be more committed to spending on the “soft” side not just the military side.
After four decades of high-adrenaline campaigning, are you ready for retirement?
I’m a workaholic. I’m going to take six months to reflect, go on spiritual retreat and decide what’s next. But I’m not going to leave the cause of helping children.
“It’s understandable that there is a call for military intervention, but the question is whether it really changes the game. It may temporarily change the situation, but it doesn’t change minds.”
DAVE TOYCEN